Part 10

“This is a hell of a note!” he said

III

Outside the locked door the voices of the two men rose in fierce whispers. But Ford regarded them not at all. With the swiftness of a squirrel caught in a cage, he darted on tiptoe from side to side searching the confines of his prison. He halted close to Miss Dale and pointed at the windows.

“Have you ever tried to loosen those bars?” he whispered.

The girl nodded and, in pantomime that spoke of failure, shrugged her shoulders.

“What did you see?” demanded Ford hopefully.

The girl destroyed his hope with a shake of her head and a swift smile.

“Scissors,” she said; “but they found them and took them away.” Ford pointed at the open grate.

“Where's the poker?” he demanded.

“They took that, too. I bent it trying to pry the bars. So they knew.”

The man gave her a quick, pleased glance, then turned his eyes to the door that led into the room that looked upon the street.

“Is that door locked?”

“No,” the girl told him. “But the door from it into the hall is fastened, like the other, with a spring lock and two bolts.”

Ford cautiously opened the door into the room adjoining, and, except for a bed and wash-stand, found it empty. On tiptoe he ran to the windows. Sowell Street was deserted. He returned to Miss Dale, again closing the door between the two rooms.

“The nurse,” Miss Dale whispered, “when she is on duty, leaves that door open so that she can watch me; when she goes downstairs, she locks and bolts the door from that room to the hall. It's locked now.”

“What's the nurse like?”

The girl gave a shudder that seemed to Ford sufficiently descriptive. Her lips tightened in a hard, straight line.

“She's not human,” she said. “I begged her to help me, appealed to her in every way; then I tried a dozen times to get past her to the stairs.”

“Well?”

The girl frowned, and with a gesture signified her surroundings.

“I'm still here,” she said.

She bent suddenly forward and, with her hand on his shoulder, turned the man so that he faced the cot.

“The mattress on that bed,” she whispered, “rests on two iron rods. They are loose and can be lifted. I planned to smash the lock, but the noise would have brought Prothero. But you could defend yourself with one of them.”

Ford had already run to the cot and dropped to his knees. He found the mattress supported on strips of iron resting loosely in sockets at the head and foot. He raised the one nearer him, and then, after a moment of hesitation, let it drop into place.

“That's fine!” he whispered. “Good as a crowbar.'” He shook his head in sudden indecision. “But I don't just know how to use it. His automatic could shoot six times before I could swing that thing on him once. And if I have it in my hands when he opens the door, he'll shoot, and he may hit you. But if I leave it where it is, he won't know I know it's there, and it may come in very handy later.”

In complete disapproval the girl shook her head. Her eyes filled with concern. “You must not fight him,” she ordered. “I mean, not for me. You don't know the danger. The man's not sane. He won't give you a chance. He's mad. You have no right to risk your life for a stranger. I'll not permit it----”

Ford held up his hand for silence. With a jerk of his head he signified the door. “They've stopped talking,” he whispered.

Straining to hear, the two leaned forward, but from the hall there came no sound. The girl raised her eyebrows questioningly.